The next evening, in the same salon after dinner, Magnus blurted out, “Hey, what did you mean?” 

Klaus froze, his cigar gripped in his teeth, “What did I mean, what?”

“When we were drinking  yesterday,” said Magnus. “With the crepes.”

“I was drunk,” said Klaus. Like that was the end of it.

“I’m curious, that’s all. You said heating a Polish castle is a nightmare,” Magnus filled his mouth with rum to stop from disclosing the rest of it. 

“Well, it’s true,” said Klaus. “It got so drafty you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Mmh,” Magnus nodded into his glass. “I’ve never been to Poland.”

“You should go,” said Klaus. “My cousin Anna married into the gentry near Silesia. It’s…well, it’s cold all the time and there is nothing to do.”

Magnus swallowed, “You’re not selling it.” 

“No, I guess not,” Klaus returned to his cigar. 

Magnus found new interest in his shoes. Klaus ordered him new shoes after he ruined his in the botched escape attempt. These were the nicest pair yet, black leather with large silver buckles. 

Magnus swallowed, “Um, you said something else?”

“What?” asked Klaus.

“Oh geez,” Magnus played it cool. “Uh, you said you like tying boys up, is how I heard it?”

Klaus rolled his head back on the sofa, cracked his neck, and groaned, “I must’ve been really drunk.”

“We were both really, really, faded,” said Magnus.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Magnus. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You didn’t offend me,” Magnus said, a little bit too eagerly. 

Klaus perked up, “Oh? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Well, you know,” Magnus babbled with the desire to express his curiosity while feigning disinterest. It was kind of impressive.

Klaus interrupted, “I could show you, if you want.”

“I mean, sure,” Magnus set his pipe down. “Why not, am I right?”